Deep In Thought
by MJLS
Summary: Bruce never wanted to be a superhero, or a protector of his own city. Naturally when he was younger he had always dreamed of it. But never had he thought that he would actually end up being one.


Bruce never wanted to be a superhero, or a protector of his own city. Naturally when he was younger he had always dreamed of it. But never had he thought that he would actually end up being one. One that only appeared at night. Cause whole Gotham knew how much their prince liked to sleep. Prince. Bruce never really liked that title, he didn't feel like a prince, even though he held the controlling interest of the city. Hell, he owned the city, he made sure every building was alright, made sure his people could have a good medical service and police force to protect them.

Yet, here he was, standing in the middle of the cave with his black suit on, the cape already draped around his shoulders. The mask was in his hands as he looked at it with firm dark brown eyes. A frown was slightly visible on his brow before he carefully placed the mask on the table next to him and started removing the suit. He had just returned from a night of protecting Gotham, Lindsey peacefully sleeping upstairs in the big bed they shared.

Blood had dried up on his scalp where he had been hit. His mask covered most of his face but it didn't protect him completely against straight blows. His long fingers ran through his sweaty brown hair that was hanging in front of his eyes. He really needed a haircut, both Alfred and Lindsey kept saying it. Wiping away the blood that had tinkled down his face from a cut in his chin, Bruce sighed slightly and wondered how long he could hold this up. Lindsey was good with hiding the wounds with her make-up but they both knew that one day he would get in serious trouble with some wounds.

Never had he thought of running away from this town, leaving it to crime and violence. He wasn't running from the city, he was running from himself. And Bruce regretted it already even though he had learned so many great things on his travel. How to survive with little money, living on one piece of food for almost 3 days. To a younger him, those things might've sound impossible, things he wouldn't even have thought of doing but to th e Bruce that was living right now, those things sounded like they were just part of him, like he had been doing it all his life until he returned to Gotham to pick up his former life again. Although with several changes.

Maybe he was expecting too much of himself. Was he really cut out for this lifestyle? Being a husband 24/7 while also being a successful business man and protector of the city. On some nights, he just wanted to quit it all, and just live his life like he had before all of this. But on other nights, he knew that it was what he had to do.

Slamming his fist on the wooden table that had belonged to his grandparents (how they had gotten it down in the cave was beyond him), Bruce gritted his teeth together as he sank to his knees and felt the cold stones under him scraped the skin of them slightly as he hung his head and let his arms hang limp next to his body.

"Damn it."

His natural soft voice echoed throughout the whole cave as he forced his eyes shut and didn't dare to look down to the floor or at his half-naked body. The night had been rough, not only on his body but also on his mind. The people that had lived in the neighborhood where he had been that night were clearly not people that believed he was doing any good. People who weren't afraid to telling him the moment they caught him in the corner of their glaring eyes.

They hadn't intervened with his chase after several low crime criminals, yet they hadn't done anything to help him either. Bruce appreciated that, otherwise he had to think about the civilians being safe next to his own body that was probably already damaged beyond repair by now because of th emany wounds gracing his torso, legs and head.

"I should've stopped that bullet."

His voice was filled with anger. Anger towards himself for not catching a bullet on time and wounding one of the surrounding civilians. The man had been a good sport however, one of the fewer people around the neighborhood that saw that he was doing some good. But still, he had brought the man to the hospital the moment he could and made sure the bill was sent to Bruce Wayne.

The man had waved everything off as just a scratch, it hadn't been a deep wound, the bullet had just grazed his arm, leaving it to bleed. Bruce didn't really know if the man had ended up with stitches or not, he hadn't stayed long enough to find out. The man had been happy to know he could be in the tumbler though, a broad smile had appeared on his lips the moment Bruce had called the car so he could get him faster to the hospital. In the end, the man had been rather excited about the vehicle and kept asking questions about it on the way to the hospital while Bruce had tried not to smile at his eagerness to know things.

Feeling the coldness of the cave starting to wrap around his half-naked body, Bruce's muscular arms quickly wrapped themselves around his chest in a way to keep the warmth in him as long as possible, his knuckles rubbing the area where his heart was beating in a way to keep him warm. A trick he had learned on his travels, during his training as a ninja.

The cave was silent, not answering to his mutters as he talked to himself about the things he had just endured. Only the noises of the many bats flying around were surrounding him from time to time, the dripping of water on the stones and the waterfall in the background. His body longed to get in bed next to Lindsey, wrap his arms around her probably bare waist and pull her closer to him while he fell into a deep slumber. But his mind was protesting against it, repeating the incident of earlier and telling him that he should clean up the cave first, putting away everything before going to bed and rest.

Bruce wished he could shut down completely, but instead, he forced himself to stand up from the cold floor, using the table as support and keep him on his feet as he tried to stop the pain from coursing through his sore limbs. His mind raced from one thought to the other while his hands picked up the different pieces of armor and put them on the dummy in the closet before safely closing it after taking one last glance at it.

Dragging his tired body towards the elevator, Bruce leaned against the cold steel while a soft breeze went over his body as he went up in several seconds. He stumbled in the library and tried to be as silent as he could as he slightly limped up the stairs to his room. The thought of falling asleep next to Lindsey was the only thing driving him right now. From the corner of his eye, he saw the sign of Batman high in the sky.

If he wasn't aching all over, he would've probably run back to the cave, jump in his suit and then the tumbler before racing off to see why Gotham needed him this time. But over time, he had learned that Gordon often let the sign on, just to scare the criminals he said. It helped, the rate of crime dropped increasingly ever since he had taken up the cowl but there were still some daredevils around in Gotham that wouldn't mind being caught by the Batman, just to see if he was really that good like people said.

The expectations on Batman were high with several people. He wasn't seen as a person anymore, over the days, months, even years, people had started to see him more as a symbol than as a person, and that was fatal sometimes as they were shocked when he was actually shot and fell down from the impact of the bullet.

Bruce wished that, one day, the people would be safe enough for him to give up the Batman persona. This was already slowly happening, even though it wasn't in a way that Bruce hoped it would. People putting their own lives in danger and claiming they were him wasn't exactly what he had hoped to accomplish but it was something. More people had joined the police force too, according to Gordon, the younger ones applying to work in his unit while the older ones applied more for just patrol officers so they could help keep the streets clear.

"Bruce? What's wrong darling? Why are you still standing at the door?" Lindsey asked, slowly sitting up from her deep slumber and wrapping a part of the blanket around her so that she was protected against the coldness of the mansion.

"Just, deep in thoughts," Bruce smiled tiredly as he walked over to the bed and sat down before flopping down on his back. A sigh escaped his lips as he tried to banish the thoughts and worry for Gotham out of his mind and concentrate on sleeping.

"Well, stop thinking and sleep, you look like a piece of shit."

"Let's see how you would look after a night playing Batman," Bruce smirked as he climbed on top of her, lifting his upper body up with his elbows as he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her lips. Lindsey's arms wrapped themselves around his neck as she deepened the kiss.

"Sorry honey, Kevlar isn't really my thing."

* * *

This is just a small oneshot I wrote, it takes place after "Beautiful" and I just wanted to write Bruce reflecting on his life a bit. I don't know but I sort of like it. Hope you guys enjoy it!

MJLS


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